


Kitten

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug gives Bilbo a “bath” with his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BonnefoyBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonnefoyBaggins/gifts).



> A/N: for bonnefoybaggins’s “Dragon!Smaug bathing Bilbo with his tongue” prompt on my [tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/)~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s too cold to bother venturing out of the mountain much, so Smaug’s claws aren’t particularly dirty. He’s lapping at the back of a front paw anyway, because a lack of dirt is no reason to forgo hygiene, and as Smaug bends his long neck to reach back beneath his elbow, he notices Bilbo’s watching him. That isn’t particularly strange—Bilbo stares at him often, which he understands; he is a glorious, magnificent dragon, so of course little mortals will stare, even ones so pretty themselves as Bilbo—but there’s something different in today’s gaze. Curled, naked, in his bed of coins, Bilbo seems to have forgotten his smoking pipe, and is instead watching Smaug with a lax and curious expression. 

Smaug finishes with his arm and lifts his head to ask, “What?” His voice echoes, rumbling, through the hollowed-out cavern, and his breath makes Bilbo’s honey bangs flutter against his pale skin. Bilbo blushes, caught, like he didn’t even realize he was staring. He goes back to his pipe to blow a tiny smoke ring.

“It’s just... you act like a cat sometimes.” The lack of any fear in his voice—not that Smaug’s little Bilbo isn’t brave, for he is—suggests that in the far off land of the Shire, cats aren’t quite so large (compared to Bilbo, at least) and ferocious as they are about the lonely mountain. Smaug’s never thought himself anything like those mangy beasts, but he’s never quick to dismiss Bilbo’s thoughts. Perhaps at his disgruntled look, Bilbo explains, “The way you clean yourself. It’s different.”

“Different than you, perhaps,” Smaug concedes, as he rarely sees other beings bathe themselves the way Bilbo does. But then, perhaps if his tongue were as short and tiny and cute as Bilbo’s, he wouldn’t want to put it to much work, either. “But it is an effective way to clean oneself.”

“I think I prefer baths.”

“Do you, now?” And as Smaug says it, his lips curl in a large, toothy grin, because thinking of how Bilbo’s tongue is so ineffective only makes him wonder if Bilbo’s tune would be different, had he access to a long, powerful appendage like the one in Smaug’s mouth. It curls against his teeth at the thought, and he can’t help but extend it past his lips to shine his fangs. Bilbo, perhaps recognizing the hungry look, places his pipe down in the bed of his forgotten clothes, face growing wary. 

Then, without warning, Smaug swoops down, opens his mouth wide and shoves his tongue all along Bilbo’s body, giving just enough time for Bilbo to cover his face and squeak in surprise. Smaug flattens him into the coins, presses over his entire being, the tip of Smaug’s tongue wrapping over Bilbo’s head and Bilbo’s tiny toes protruding into the base. At first, Smaug simply holds himself against Bilbo, letting his saliva slither down his hobbit’s smooth skin, letting Bilbo squirm of his own accord against all the little bumps that send pockets of taste up into Smaug’s mouth. Then he pulls away, gives Bilbo a scant second to breathe, and laves his tongue back up his Bilbo’s body, feet to hair, wetting everything. 

When he pulls his snout back enough for a good lick, Bilbo is gasping for air, rolling half onto his side, entirely covered in Smaug’s spit. He presses a little hand against his mouth, his tiny body trembling, pinker than it was before Smaug licked him, as every liquid that comes from Smaug is nearly boiling hot. Bilbo doesn’t complain, just shivers and looks up at Smaug with hazy eyes. Smaug, grinning broadly, purrs, “Roll onto your stomach, my precious treasure.” His tone is gentle, and Bilbo puts up no effort to resist. He shifts onto his front, cheek turned to the side, pink lips open as he breathes hard, arms tucked in at his sides. His little hands are probably clamped over his nipples, maybe rubbing them, like he does so often when Smaug toys with his body. His intent was to bathe Bilbo, of course, to make an innocent point, but Bilbo becomes wanton and irresistible so easily. He spreads his legs slightly, his round ass stuck up into the air, and Smaug takes a minute to gather more saliva in his mouth; he must be sure to clean every last millimeter of his dear hobbit’s skin. 

Then he lets his tongue dart back out, slither up Bilbo’s back, once, twice, again, lapping away, the fifth lick a painfully slow drag, so he can take in every nuance of Bilbo’s shape. He particularly enjoys the curve of Bilbo’s rear, and he revels in the feeling of his spit soaking Bilbo’s thighs and trickling down his crack; Smaug can feel the back of Bilbo’s balls and cock pressed into the coins. As Smaug laves over him, Bilbo gasps and begins to writhe, his breath comprised of ragged, uneven moans. He pants, “ _Smaug,_ ” and it sounds waterlogged, like Smaug’s spit has drizzled into and clogged his mouth during the speech, but it doesn’t stop his erotic squirming and whimpers. When Smaug leaves again, every last bit of Bilbo’s skin is glistening, like he’s been wrapped up in a clear package and glued to Smaug’s floor. 

Smaug purrs, “Hush, little one,” because Bilbo’s noises are making him want to rut into his treasure, and there’s no sense doing anything dirty while Smaug is trying to clean them. It’s an inevitability though, especially when Bilbo raises his ass higher and reaches back to spread his cheeks apart, like he wants to be licked from the inside out. If Smaug could worm his tongue into such a tiny hole, he would; he’d stuff Bilbo full and clean all of Bilbo’s walls, but he can’t, so all he does is gather drool at the sight. Belatedly, he thinks he should’ve flown Bilbo back to those old dwarven chambers that house Bilbo’s favourite bath, so Smaug could fill it and allow Bilbo to marinate properly in Smaug’s juices. For now, Smaug’s saliva slowly drips away, leaves Bilbo moist but bare. 

And Smaug spits right onto his hobbit. It’s a guttural, raunchy thing that should be too disgusting to do to his prized jewel, but Bilbo clearly wants it. For a moment, Bilbo is immersed in Smaug’s spit, swimming in it, the hill of coins indented from the force and holding in the thick, sticky liquid. Bilbo tosses his head out, gasping, his hair plastered around his face and his tongue out while he pants in the open air, cheeks flushed in delight. Smaug can see Bilbo’s ass clenching beneath the murky surface, trying to pull as much of it inside as possible. Coagulated as it is, it takes a few minutes to really seep away, dissipating around the floor of unconnected gold. Bilbo stays curled in his bed of moist coins. Smaug, taking pity, leans over him and gently laps at his shoulders and back, just with the mere tip of a tongue, little, light things that give Bilbo a chance to move on his own, rock his hips into his hand while Smaug nuzzles into him. How Smaug was ever blessed with such a beautiful creature, he still doesn’t know, but he enjoys every single orgasm he can pull from his lover’s body as much as the first one he ever did, back when he was foolish enough to think Bilbo a thief of more than a dragon’s heart. 

Now, Bilbo’s a gorgeous, tiny god, and when he’s nearing his end, he moans, “ _Smaug_ ,” hoarse and needy. Smaug uses his muzzle to carefully roll Bilbo onto his back, facing up, so Smaug can see his pretty face when he comes. 

Bilbo’s legs are in the air, spread open. Smaug’s tongue presses into them, molds around the softness of his thighs, draws slowly up his body, and Smaug can feel his hobbit’s cock twitch and spill against him, a small, slick puddle of salty stickiness that mingles with Smaug’s own juices. He continues to lave the rest of the way up Bilbo’s body, then curls his tongue back into his mouth to suck Bilbo’s release away. 

One more lick, just to make sure he’s caught it all, and Bilbo is a drenched, shivering, gorgeous thing for Smaug to lean back and adore. When he rubs his tongue along the roof of his mouth and suckles, he can taste the remnants of Bilbo. As Bilbo pants his way back down from the high, Smaug sighs, “There. All clean.”

And Bilbo laughs while Smaug smiles.


End file.
